


In the Doghouse

by SegaBarrett



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: M/M, Puppy Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 13:35:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5628472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SegaBarrett/pseuds/SegaBarrett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Walt throws Jesse a bone, so to speak.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Doghouse

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Porkchop_Sandwiches](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Porkchop_Sandwiches/gifts).



> Disclaimer: I don't own Breaking Bad, and I make no money from this.

“Yo, Mr. White, I can’t really understand getting turned on by Scooby Doo.”

Walter White lifted his head and stared at his young partner with a mix of annoyance and amusement.

“I’m assuming there’s a point to this statement, Jesse,” Walt stated dryly. He was laying on the couch on his side, half-watching a documentary about men in England who had bought a lion, sent the lion to Africa, and then later met up with the lion again, who had recognized them.  
It was heartwarming, Walt had decided, but generally improbable. It probably was just luck of the draw that the lion hadn’t eaten the men; it could have clearly gone the other way just as easily.

“I’m reading these contracts for puppy play,” Jesse told him, moving his knees to balance the laptop he had set on them. “And one of the possibilities is to answer everything in Scooby voice. I think that would ruin it all for me – I’m not into Scooby. I mean, Daphne, maybe, or Mary Anne. But not Scooby himself.”

Walt turned his head to look at Jesse.

“Is this your way of hinting that you want to try something new, Jesse?”

“Not Scooby Doo.”

“Well, for what reason did you decide to look up puppy play contracts, Jesse?” Walt pressed. “This wasn’t something you just happened to click on.”

“You don’t know that, man. It’s called a Wiki-Walk.”

“Quit beating around the bush, Jesse. If there’s something you’re interested in trying, just tell me. I hate guessing games.”

“Okay, Mr. White – then… well, you want to try this stuff? You wanna… I don’t know, walk me or something?”

“Did you not get the dog that you wanted as a child, Jesse? Is this some deep-seated need to regress?” Walt asked with a smirk.

“Listen, man, if you’re going to make fun of me about it, well, then we just won’t do it? Forget I said anything.” Jesse stood up in a huff, ready to walk off.

“Jesse, stop,” Walt said, and for some reason, Jesse did so. He stopped right where he was, as if he was playing some demented form of freeze tag. “We can do it. I’m sorry that I was picking on you – I just didn’t expect you to ask for something like this. When you asked if we could spice it up, I assumed you meant something like whips and chains… not Great Danes.”

Jesse rolled his eyes.

“You must’ve been a big hit when you were a kid, Mr. White. Teachers must’ve loved you, but kids probably put fuckin’ tacks on your chairs.”

Walt looked at him and smirked. Suddenly, he found himself tired of talking around it. Jesse should know by now that Walt was, if nothing else, a man of action.

“Down on all fours, boy!” he announced in a voice that he figured sounded appropriate for a man bringing a pack of dogs out on a hunt, to go get foxes or squirrels or something similar.

Jesse stared at him for a long moment, before complying. He reached up and stroked a hand over his hair from his push-up position and nearly fell over on his side.

Walt chuckled.

“Seriously? Jesse, you are so clumsy.”

Jesse cocked his head to the side and looked at him, wondering what he was meant to do. 

Then he seemed to come to a decision – he let out a tiny yip; his eyes darted around as if he had surprised himself at the sound coming out of his throat.

“Good boy!” Walt exclaimed, and then took a step towards him. 

Jesse shook his butt in an awkward mimic of tail-wagging, and Walt laughed. 

He and Jesse had been sleeping together for three months now, and he was surprised about how the whole arrangement made him feel. If someone had asked him about it beforehand, he would have denied it – what the hell would he want from his obnoxious little punk of a partner? Not only that, but Walt had never even been with a man before – though if he was honest, he’d thought about it, one night in particular with Gretchen and Elliot dancing around in a hundred different alternate versions in his mind.

He felt as if they had cranked up the volume as of late – Jesse had been expressing interest in a number of strange practices, but whenever Walt would question him about it, he would laugh it off and say that he was joking or “just reading”.

This was the first time they had actually engaged in any of this kinky stuff, and Walt wasn’t sure what to make of the butterflies in his stomach. He didn’t really like feeling like a blushing bride – maybe this was the kind of stuff Jesse had always been into, and Walt was the prude. He didn’t like that thought; not at all.

He picked a stress ball off of the table and tossed it to the wall. 

“Fetch, boy!” He declared. He’d had a dog growing up as a kid, but not for very long – it had been a mangy Doberman who had run off one day and broken Walt’s six-year-old heart by never coming back. What had that dog’s name been? Shannon, right? It had been Shannon. And he’d still hoped the damn mutt would come back into his preteen years before he had given up hope. 

Maybe there was some parallel here. Jesse seemed like an equally lost cause, after all.

Jesse bounded off so hard that Walt was a little frightened he would pull something. Then again, Jesse was young (a pup, Walt considered wryly) and had more energy than Walt would have had doing the same task.  
Not that Walt would have any interest in running around on all fours taking drinks out of bowls. He’d have to do that, too, he figured – but at what point would he run out of ideas for dog experiences, and at what point would he or Jesse get bored of the whole thing? It wasn’t quite the same as having an actual dog, after all, though in some ways Jesse tended to qualify, what with his eagerness to please and inability to stop from following Walt around.

At least, Walt summarized in his mind, dogs had not yet developed the capacity to use the word “yo”.

Jesse returned, stress ball between his teeth, nodding eagerly and bowing his head in front of Walt. He dropped the ball at his feet, and while his eyes indicated a certain level of discomfort (probably, Walt figured, in his jaw somewhere), he began to pant, nodding his head and obviously seeking praise.

Walt reached down and gave Jesse a pat on the head.

“Good boy.” He wondered whether he ought to throw it again. Wouldn’t that be what an actual dog would do? It wouldn’t be like a cat, who would get irritated after batting a wand around for ten minutes and would then insist on knocking things off a shelf (Skyler had wanted a cat when they had first gotten married; Walt had wholeheartedly refused). A dog could do the same stupid thing for hours. Then again, this was a man who probably had gotten great comic joy from that Tom Green movie. He threw it out again. “Fetch!”

Jesse went to retrieve it all over again, and Walt found himself visualizing Jesse in a collar, and only a collar.

He grinned. That would certainly make the whole game a little more interesting. He could even attach a leash and just lead the younger man around – maybe he could convince him to stick with it and it could keep him out of trouble, even. After all, dogs were predictable, and generally safe. They lived to obey. 

“Jesse, boy!” Walt declared as Jesse returned with the ball yet again. Jesse let out a whine. “Stay,” Walt commanded, then wondered what he should do next. Should he leave Jesse back in the house and expect him to still remain acting like a dog? If Jesse actually did take that advice to heart, he could come back to an inexplicably torn up couch. “Come to the car with me,” he said instead. That was what people did, right? Left their dog in the car? It wasn’t like it was a hot day or anything. 

Walt shook his head a little bit. He was overthinking it. This was play; he didn’t really have to worry about PETA rolling in to break it up.

“Arf,” Jesse said.

Walt had never guessed the amount of effort Jesse was willing to go through to ensure authenticity. In another life, the kid could have been a method actor.

***

“How large is your dog?”

Keryn, the friendly PetSmart employee, had come over a few minutes ago to assist Walt with exactly what type of collar he may need. 

He figured that full disclosure would lead this to be a rather uncomfortable visit, so he tried to consider a Jesse-sized dog. Jesse was, what, one hundred and twenty pounds, if that? What kind of dog was in that range?

“Well, it’s a pitbull. Medium sized,” Walt explained, though the idea of Jesse as a pitbull was pretty laughable. 

“I see. Well, you want to make sure it’s not going to slip off, but you also don’t want something that’s going to be too tight, either.” Keryn gave him a polite smile as she worked her way through the collars. “Is this a new dog?”

“Oh. Yes,” Walt replied. He hoped that she didn’t decide to poke her head out into the parking lot, where Jesse was no doubt mashing his face into the window. “He’s at my house right now. It was kind of an impulse adoption. I should have gotten everything in order before I took him on.”

He wasn’t sure if he was actually talking about the pretend dog there, or whether he really did mean Jesse. Jesse was one disaster after another waiting to happen or already having happened. What had it been that Mike had said that one time? “No half-measures”, encouraging him to snip the fat from his business? So much for that, of course – Mike seemed to be Jesse’s biggest fan these days, always taking his side over Walt’s. It was like… well, it was whatever Skyler must feel watching Junior side with him.

Thinking about it that way, maybe it served him right, but that didn’t take any of the burn off.

“Do you need any… care guides, or anything? Getting a dog can be a big step. If you haven’t had one before, I mean.” The woman’s eyes were twinkling at him. Was she flirting with him, or was she just really passionate about proper pet ownership?

Walt smiled.

“Care guides would be great, Keryn. I feel like I have so much to learn.”

***

Walt stood back and wrapped the leash around his hand. It was snug on his wrist and when he pulled it back, Jesse yelped. That might have been partially because it was chilly in the condo – Walt had reminded Jesse upon their return that dogs didn’t wear clothes, except for those Chihuahuas in their little sweaters. Walt didn’t want a Chihuahua. 

“Let’s test this out,” he said, even though he already was. “Let’s take a few walks around the condo and see how this goes. If you’re good and you don’t pull too much, I can give you some treats.” His trip to PetSmart had also yielded some cheddar-filled dog treats that looked at least vaguely human edible. He assumed that Jesse would not be the first nor the last to have tried them.

Jesse barked in response. Walt was surprised that Jesse hadn’t gotten tired of this by now – it was nice to not have to listen to his constant yammering, but what was Jesse getting out of this? Freud probably would have had a theory, probably something about how Jesse hadn’t been nurtured enough as a child and needed to get all of that done now with Walt, but how that tied into them walking around with Jesse on a leash he didn’t quite know.

Jesse began to lead him, slowly, around the condo, pausing a few times to move into a spirited humping of the door jambs that left Walt more than a little concerned about his ability to get his security deposit back. 

Finally, after a few passes around the perimeter, Walt’s legs began to feel tired. He had been feeling that way more and more often these last few weeks; his health issues might be getting the better of him, he considered. Not that he would tell Jesse that – he didn’t want the younger man to see weakness in him if he didn’t have to. He had to be Heisenberg, and Heisenberg didn’t falter, didn’t fail.

He also, apparently, had a dog.

“All right, treat time,” he announced, taking a seat on the couch on the next pass. He reached over to the night stand and picked up the box of biscuits. He opened it and took out a few. He tossed one to Jesse, who caught it in his mouth and chewed it.

Walt sighed.

“Game over for now. Back to Jesse.”

Jesse shook his head a moment, but Walt gave him a look that said he wouldn’t argue the fact. He was done with this; it had bored him, maybe, or maybe it was just frustrating. He couldn’t understand the appeal of Jesse trying to pretend to be something that he wasn’t. Something lesser. 

“Come sit by me.” He patted the couch, and Jesse rose to sit beside him.

Jesse leaned his head on Walt’s shoulder.

“My knees hurt,” he whispered in Walt’s ear. Walt couldn’t be sure, but he thought he heard something like contentment, or maybe pride, behind the complaint.

But he wouldn’t spend time trying to mull it over – who ever really knew with Jesse, after all?

Jesse’s naked chest was pressed against Walt’s clothed one, now, and he could hear his heart beating.

“They’re all red and swollen,” Jesse murmured again. 

“Get some rest, Jesse.” 

Walt reached down and easily scooped up Jesse’s knees, to put him on his back on the bed.

“Good boy.”

He pressed a kiss to his forehead and watched as Jesse’s eyes slipped shut.


End file.
